SPCFC: Yaoi Vengeance
by AVAAntares
Summary: The second chronicle of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Fictional Characters. The Second Director must break all the rules to stop a ruthless doujinshi circle. This mission: Weiss Kreuz, Witch Hunter Robin, Gundam W, Noir, and more!
1. In which Ken looks in the bathroom, and

**SPCFC: Yaoi Vengeance**

**A continuation of the saga of the Society For the Prevention of Cruelty to Fictional Characters, originally conceived by Melchoir.**

This is the second volume culled from the archives of the SPCFC and presented for public perusal. These annals chronicle the actions and histories of the intrepid members of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Fictional Characters in their never-ending quest: **To uphold the standards of good fiction, to protect and preseve pretty people in their natural habitats and to let them run free without worry of man's (or woman's) corrupting perversions. To this end, they dedicate their lives in service to the promotion of excellence in creative works, and to the protection of those who are created in good faith by practitioners of such creativity.**

[AN: The first and fourth titles in this series are currently being held hostage by Melchoir, who, while he has not outright refused to post them, does seem loath to release them to the world at large. However, I will be posting my own contributions to the saga, which (so far) include volumes II, III, V and VI of the SPCFC series. If you have questions about the first story, email me privately and I'll see what I can let slip. I also apologize for the screwy formatting; there's only so much that HTML can emulate. I've done what I can to make it readable.]

**SPCFC: Yaoi Vengeance**

Prologue

_He had always known there were mysterious powers at work. He felt at times that he was not in control of his actions, that his movements were being directed by an outside hand. This strange force interfered when he was in danger or on a mission, driving him to go beyond human limits and become the immortal assassin, become Weiss itself. Perhaps there was a charm on his life or his profession. His sword always cut true, even when he felt weak. His strike meant instant death, even to strong foes. Although he'd been wounded a dozen or more times, the bullets always missed their mark, and instead of killing him merely clipped his arm or grazed his ribs. Only once had he been seriously injured, and even then he had still been able to fight._

_Although he never mentioned it to them, he knew the others sensed it as well – that Weiss was almost too effective, and they'd been "lucky" far too often. As the missions grew more difficult, their skills increased to match the demand, making them something more and something less than human. They had learned not to question the mysterious power, but to accept and utilize it as the missions demanded. Still, the feeling of being manipulated latched on to him, gnawing at his mind every time he donned his black boots and coat and slipped into the night._

_Perhaps it was the simply stress of the missions, telling after so many years. Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps those he'd murdered were haunting him, punishing him every time he went to take another life. He could accept their hatred; it was part of the mission, part of being Weiss. The strange force was driving him on into the night, perhaps to a worse fate._

_But it could at least have the decency to leave him alone during working hours…_

**Chapter the First:**

**In which Ken looks in the bathroom, and Aya gets a cold shower**

"Ken-kun!" Omi stretched to look over the teeming masses of schoolgirls in the _Koneko_. "Is Aya-kun up yet? It's almost time for his shift, and I haven't seen him all day."

Ken stepped around a pair of high-school girls browsing the daisies and looked into the back room. "Don't see him," he called back. "I'll check upstairs. He's probably still asleep, after last night."

Omi shot a warning glance in his direction, but Ken added nothing incriminating about the mission. With typical athletic exuberance he darted up the narrow stairs two at a step. This building had been a perfect choice for their operation; the flower shop was a convenient front for the public, the basement was their mission headquarters, and the top floors were apartments – more living space than four bachelors really needed, but that was better than being too cramped.

The bathroom was empty but still steamy, which meant that Aya had been the last one to use the shower – Yohji always wiped down the mirrors, the better to fix his hair. Aya was up a little earlier than usual, then… With an inexplicable feeling that something wasn't right, Ken headed for Aya's room. He hesitated outside the closed door; something stopped him from knocking. Instead, he called softly:

"Aya? Can I come in?"

There was a monosyllabic response that Ken took to be an affirmative. Aya was sitting on his bed with a towel draped around his shoulders, only half-dressed after his shower. He didn't look up as Ken entered, but continued to gaze at something on the bed in front of him. Coming closer, Ken recognized the item as one of Aya's only personal treasures, a well-worn photograph of himself and his sister. The picture captured Aya-chan's perfect laughter as she flung her arms around her brother's neck. Ken stood silently by the bed, waiting.

"I always hated it when she did that," Aya said after a few minutes, never moving his eyes from the photo. "Whenever she'd see me, she'd demand a hug. I think she did it in part just to annoy me." The towel slipped from his shoulders, and to Ken's eyes he looked fragile, vulnerable. "Secretly, I think I was glad that she wasn't embarrassed to embrace me. But now…" He closed his eyes and turned away. "I'd give anything for another chance to feel that again."

"It's a rare thing for us," Ken agreed softly, sitting on the bed beside him. "We have to be cut off because of who we are, and what we do. We can't afford to embrace those we love."

---

The monitor illuminated the blonde woman's features as she tapped commands on the keyboard. In one corner of the screen, an alert box dutifully flashed its warning. It had been yellow a moment ago; now it was orange, and if things kept up this way, it would be red in a few moments.

The woman reached punched a button on the communications panel. "This is Wendy. Please put me through to the Director, right away. I think we have a problem."

---

Ken sat for a moment, unsure of what to do. He could feel Aya suffering beside him, an almost tangible ache that radiated from his whole being. Suddenly he realized that he felt the same – he was tired of being alone, tired of being deprived of the closeness and human warmth that were so important to him. His hands reached out, moving almost of their own accord, to touch his friend's shoulders. Aya jumped at the first touch, then gradually leaned closer as Ken gently caressed the warm, bare skin of his back.

---

"Fight it, boys," Wendy hissed through clenched teeth, staring at the monitor. "Don't let them do this to you." She glanced up as the Director, a woman with chin-length dark hair, approached the viewing station. "The doujinshi writers are at it again, ma'am," Wendy explained quickly. "I think it's bad this time. I was hoping the FCs would be able to reject the influence, but it seems the sheer quantity of it is overwhelming them."

The dark-haired woman leaned closer to peer at the screen. "Let me see," she said.

---

Aya lost himself in the warmth of the gentle touch. Ken's hands moved over his back and shoulders, trailing an electric tingle on the bare skin. His head dropped forward to rest on Ken's shoulder as the arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. The embrace was soothing, healing. Without being aware of moving them he felt his own arms slip around Ken's waist. Here was someone who understood him, who felt the same pain, who had the same needs and longings – someone who could connect with him on the most intimate level. Was this what he had been missing all along?

---

The warning light began blinking red. "They're already under its influence," the Director said. "We have to snap them out of it before it becomes canonical." She pressed a button on an adjacent panel. "Priss, we're going to need interference for world WK-1a. Soon." Returning to the monitor, she sighed and closed her eyes. "Sorry boys, but it's really for your own good…"

---

Aya was drawn irresistibly into the embrace, and lifted his head as he felt Ken's hair feather his face. He sensed the soft glow of breath on his cheek, the warmth of the lips nearly brushing his own. Closing his eyes, he felt himself pulled forward…

---

"Now, Priss. Now!"

---

A stab of cold like an icicle wrenched through Aya's mind, and he lurched back in a spasm of shock and terror. His body quivered uncontrollably, flashes of color washing his vision. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the touch in his mind was gone, and with it the compelling force. He opened his eyes to see Ken's face mirroring the same horror he felt. Both of them jumped back, putting a suitable distance between them.

"What… were we doing?" Ken's whisper was barely audible. Aya felt a line of cold sweat run down his back.


	2. In which Doujima gets an assignment, and...

**Chapter the Second **

**In which Doujima gets an assignment, and Ken bangs his head**

"The doujinshi circles must be dealt with." The dark haired woman tapped her pencil rhythmically on the conference table as she spoke. "They are flooding the balance of literary power, turning it in their favor. In some cases, this has reached the point where they are no longer affecting only their created doujin subworld, but are actually beginning to pull the original characters out of balance as well."

Someone halfway down the conference table waved a hand. "How is that possible? Unless it's endorsed by the creator, the doujin subworlds shouldn't have any impact on the canon, no matter how 'accurate' they try to be. Isn't that what we found in our research on the effects of hentai fanworks?"

"If I may, Noin…" interjected another woman, a brunette in a black bustier and red jacket. The dark haired woman nodded, and the speaker continued. "Since Mireille brought up the hentai research, I'd like to use it as an example. The situation in WK-1a is similar to the one from a few years ago, with NGE-FHa." There was a subdued murmur around the table. "In that case, NGE-FHa – which, as you recall, was a fan-created hentai work – was such a success that the holder of NGE-1a and its subsidiaries decided to begin producing such works of their own. Since these were technically canonical, the NGE-1a world was adversely affected. You all know the side effects of the mishandling of that world; two of them are incarcerated downstairs in this very building.

"However, the situation in WK-1a is potentially even more dangerous. As you pointed out, most doujinshi only affects its own subworld. However, in this case, the creator _did_ endorse – and license – some of the doujinshi. This created a connection between the doujin worlds and the canon world, and the creator sacrificed his absolute control over the canon. The yaoi circle we're dealing with now is not related to the licensed anthology, but the barrier between the two worlds is weak enough that it has some gravitational – no pun intended – effect. And the sheer quantity of works is in the doujins' favor, though the creator is doing his best to keep up with them. WK-3a and WKB-1m were solely intended to tip the balance of power back in his favor, although I fear they may have made the problem worse."

Noin began twirling her pencil with her fingers. "Priss has explained the situation well. Right now, our primary concern is correcting the balance of power without completely demolishing the existing world or characters. This world is one that has always relied heavily on the story gods, and I think it's becoming fragile now that the gods are at war. I know this is also a classic case of multiple BA, but we're overtaxed as it is – angst is in season right now – and I don't think we have a prayer of relocating eight bishounen, or even the women."

"What options do we have?" asked the blonde next to Priss. "We've interfered once already, but we can't keep that up – too many outside influences, and we might drive the poor guys over the edge altogether."

Noin nodded. "I was thinking more along the lines of sending someone in," she said. "Not as a retriever – rather as a director."

The blonde let out a low whistle. "Can we do that? And more importantly, would it have any impact? Or would the doujinshi circle just work around our changes?"

"Yurika's right," added Mireille. "We need to take care of things on our side of the fence first, or the problem will never be resolved."

Doujima glanced back at the head of the table. "Noin? What are you thinking?"

Noin's eyes glittered in a way that would have put Watase Yuu to shame. "Two birds," she said, "one stone. Doujima… you have an assignment."

---

"Weiss… you have a mission."

Birman herded the members of Weiss into the basement headquarters, where they took their various positions around the television. She started the tape, and Persia's silhouette appeared, greeting them with usual curtness and droning on about their next mission.

Ken's eyes wandered across the room to Aya, who stood stoically against the wall as usual. He gazed in wonder as the light from the screen illuminated the striking profile and auburn hair, flicking reflections into the intense eyes. Aya pushed the red fringe of his bangs away from his face and Ken found himself admiring the graceful way his hand moved, the way the hair fell perfectly over his forehead. He leaned forward, seeing nothing but the deep violet eyes shrouded with luxurious black lashes that even now brushed the delicate porcelain of Aya's cheek as he blinked…

"GYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"

All eyes swung to Ken, who ran to the wall and began pounding his head against the concrete blocks. Birman paused the tape, watching with the others in stunned silence. After a healthy scream and a few dozen _thuds_ against the wall, Ken staggered back to his seat, a trickle of blood leaking from his hairline.

Birman was the first to recover. "Siberian?" she asked tentatively. "Is there something you'd like to share with us?"

Ken shook his head – more of a wobble – and tried to smile. "I'm fine," he said lightly. He could feel Aya's inquiring eyes on him, but he didn't dare return the glance. The bizarre attraction had taken control of him twice, now; he wouldn't allow it a third opportunity.

"Ken-kun… are you sure you're all right?" Omi was watching him closely, open concern on his face. "Your head is bleeding…"

"I said I'm fine. Go ahead."

Birman eyed him warily, but restarted the tape. Persia's computer-manipulated voice crackled through the speakers.

"…mission is to eliminate members of a nefarious ring who call themselves the 'ShounenAiee Circle.' These villains are responsible for the destruction of…"

Yohji snorted at the image of starry-eyed girls that appeared on the screen. "What do they do, glomp people to death? Although that does sound kinda fun…"

Birman gave him a withering look, and he was silent. Persia continued. "…will be receiving guidance from an outside source, who will guide you to your targets and give you further instruction. Hunters of light…"

Omi jumped to his feet, cutting off Persia's signature. "What does he mean, 'outside source'? Why do we need someone to show us where the target is?"

Birman gestured toward the stairs, where an attractive blonde waited with clipboard in hand. "This is Chartreux, from Kritiker headquarters. While you men of Weiss are ordinarily quite capable of handling missions on your own, Kritiker believes that eliminating this particular target may require the use of classified information. Therefore, you will be working on this case with Chartreux, who has the security clearance for such information as you may require." Birman did not look happy – or convinced – but she stood by the orders.

The blonde, dressed in a short green skirt and matching jacket, waved cheerily at them and handed out the basic mission information. "Are we all in?" she asked in a voice that was entirely too chipper, and was answered with four solemn – if a bit confused – nods. She nodded in return, businesslike. "Tonight, then. I will transport you to the place where you will find the target."

"Can't you just draw us a map?" Yohji muttered. The others chuckled, but a look from Birman silenced them again. Chartreux laughed as well, but didn't reply to the question.

"Tonight, then," she said, jogging up the stairs.

"Hey, wait a second!" Yohji called, and started after her – but she had vanished.


	3. In which Omi is embarrassed, and Doujima...

**Chapter the Third**

**In which Omi is embarrassed, and Doujima changes clothes**

Ken, Yohji, Omi and Aya gathered at the appointed time, ready for the hunt. During their briefing, the agent called Chartreux had impressed upon them that this case was extremely risky, but they didn't see how it could be any different than their usual cases. After all, the targets were young girls who had no special powers in particular, and did not seem to pose any kind of physical threat. The members of Weiss were still not entirely sure why the girls had to die – but none of them were about to miss out on a case this bizarre.

While they waited for Chartreux, Ken felt the pressure of being watched. He turned to see Omi gazing at him with stars in his eyes. Ken tried to ignore it and focus on adjusting his bugnuks, but the younger boy kept staring. After a few minutes, Omi sighed wistfully. "Ken-kun… those goggles look really great on you," he murmured.

Aya, a few paces away, looked up in alarm at the sound of Omi's dreamy voice. Without warning, he stepped forward and smacked Omi on the back of the head – breaking the spell, and eliciting a few choice words in a very different tone of voice from the youngest member of the team. "Don't you start that, too," he growled, glancing from Omi to Ken. Ken nodded in understanding. He and Aya had the willpower to fight the strange compulsion, but Weiss did not need their resident archer to start playing Cupid. As if the Ouka thing hadn't been bad enough…

Before Yohji could comment on Aya's abuse of his younger comrade, Chartreux arrived. "Are we all ready?" she asked, still far too perky for someone on a mission of assassination, and was answered again with nods. She pulled out a cellular phone – pink, with a number of charms and keychains dangling from the back – and proceeded to speak a series of code numbers. Finally she disconnected, satisfied. "This way, gentlemen," she said, waving them towards a service door.

When the door opened, brilliant light struck them, and all of them dropped into ready fighting positions as they found themselves in a crowd. As their eyes adjusted, they realized they were surrounded by teeming masses of people, dressed in all kinds of clothing, from ancient Japanese garb to futuristic space suits. Some of them looked extremely bizarre. Gradually, the men of Weiss relaxed as they realized that no one was giving them a second look. 

"But I tell you, I _didn't_ slap her!"

Ken and the others whirled around at the sound of Aya's voice, but Aya wasn't speaking – he was staring, speechless, across the room at a man who might have been his brother. The other man was taller, dressed all in white, and his brilliant red hair fell well below his waist. His voice was indeed of the same timbre as Aya's, though his speech was somewhat haughtier. He seemed to be defending himself against a girl with bright pink hair and a mouse on her shoulder.

"If the Rose Bride is out of sorts, it certainly isn't my fault. Why don't you ask her brother, the Chairman, what happened? I'm sure he would know better than I…" 

"Gentlemen?" Chartreux was standing by the door, tapping her foot. "We're ready to go, any time you'd like…"

Stunned, they followed her through a second door, and found themselves on a street in a middle-class neighborhood. They spun around, but the road behind them was empty.

"Where… where are we?" Ken asked, awed and unnerved by the sudden transformation.

"Asuka," answered Chartreux. Yohji jumped, but then realized she meant the city, and relaxed. "Your target is on the second floor of that white house."

In a moment they were inside, moving in unison like the team they were, but without the silent deadliness that they usually shared. Aya breathed more rapidly, acutely aware of the lack of the driving force he usually felt on a mission. This time, he felt distinctly human – not at all like Weiss, the murdering shadow – and he was certain that if anyone shot at him tonight, the bullets would strike home.

Chartreux had disappeared as soon as they'd entered the house, and now they found her, waiting at the top of the stairs with a finger to her lips. She gestured to the door behind her, and now they heard high-pitched giggling and shuffling in the next room. The sound was muffled, but a few words could be made out distinctly: _Aya… bedroom…Yohji… triangle… Schuldich…_ What on earth could they be discussing?

On Chartreux's signal, Weiss burst into the room, their spirit dampened but not demolished by the strange events of the evening. A half-dozen teenage girls in pajamas screamed and scrambled behind a table littered with half-completed drawings. Omi, nearest the table, glanced at the sketches and turned pink, then red, then purple in rapid succession. Before he could articulate anything, he was promptly tackled by two of the girls.

"Oh, Omi-kuuuuuun, so _kawaiiiiiiii_!" they screeched in unison, hugging and pawing him like a toy. Omi screamed for help, but each of his comrades was soon burdened with a fangirl or two of his own.

Yohji hopped on one leg while he tried to shake off a girl attached to his ankle. "Being glomped to death isn't as much fun as I thought," he muttered, leaning on the table for balance. His hand fell on one of the drawings, and he turned to look…

"KYAAAAAHHH!" Yohji lunged backwards, dragging the girl with him, and fell to the floor, his face purpling. All the activity in the room stopped as he became the center of attention. He stuttered and pointed to the table, unable to speak. Ken and Aya leaned over to see for themselves, and turned a similar shade of violet.

"…That's just sick," Ken managed at last. Aya shuddered and turned away.

The girls slumped to the floor, deflated. "You don't like it?" one of them asked.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then everyone started talking at once.

"I don't even _own_ a ball gag!" Yohji protested.

"I like girls!" Omi cried. "_Girls!_"

Ken wrestled his arms away from the girls. "How can you deviants even come up with something like that?" he demanded. "That's so… _wrong_!"

Aya simply drew his katana. For this mission, he didn't need any mysterious driving force to direct his actions. He knew _exactly_ what to do.

---

Persia, flanked by Manx and Birman, glanced over the mission report on his desk. "I must say," he sighed at last, "that was the most bizarre mission order I've ever given. And we have no idea why Kritiker recommended that these girls be eliminated. Did you ever hear any more from that Kritiker agent, Chartreux?"

Birman shook her head. "No. And… I'm not sure I should say this, sir, but… In retrospect, I don't know if Kritiker was the only force behind this. According to Weiss, some very strange things happened during the mission."

Persia frowned. "Such as?"

"That's part of the problem, sir. None of them remember the details, but they all seem to be having strange dreams lately. And… it might not be related, but it seems to me that they're all valuing their privacy and personal space more than ever. Two of them won't even sit on the same couch. I don't understand it at all."

Manx thought for a moment. "Mind-control drugs, perhaps? Although that hardly seems likely. There were no reported injuries, either."

Persia leaned back in his chair and looked up at Manx. "Maybe our boys just need a vacation," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe we all do."

---

Doujima squirmed out of the tight-fitting jacket and shrugged on her usual black coat. She groaned as she kicked at the pile of fabric on the floor. "I can't believe I had to wear that! Who designs skirts that short? I felt like walking fanservice."

Mireille nodded in sympathy. "I know what that's like."

Noin, entering the room, chuckled. "Just think of it as cosplaying, Doujima. You've done that before, haven't you?"

Doujima rolled her eyes and gathered up the skimpy green suit. "I'm going to run these back to wardrobe." She caught sight of a paper in Noin's hand. "What's that?"

Noin waved a sheet of official-looking stationery with a Project W letterhead. "Apparently we got a personal note of thanks from the creator," she said. "Really interesting guy. I've heard him sing… beautiful voice…" She snapped back to the present and held out the letter. "So, um… does anyone read Japanese?"

**Fin**

[AN: Bonus points to anyone who caught the seiyuu jokes or references to the Weiss DVD outtakes. Up next: SPCFC III: The Search For Spike. Featuring the Third Director, Amon, and a host of characters culled from British literary sources!]


End file.
